Entering any faviorate mall,
A row of seats you wence recall
mega signs displayed everywhere
You can't help to stop an stare
First you notice the folk gathered,
in seats all around the booth of glass
an author about to be a star, record, what mattered
long last, she or he can Publish infront of class
Him or her turns on the greenlite ONAir, all go silent,
She is up-to-bat, she knows this is her Debeu
The crowd awaits patiently, at that moment
speakers come alive, she or he wants, to interest you
Mr. or Mrs. tells you to keep your seat,
During this time editors scramble as papers fly
everyone thinks this is neet
beats that Photo booth, in years gone by
Their story-tell envokes all emotions, touch our heart,
all five senses are somehow wakened...
realizing this Publishing Booth, On -The -Spot
has potential, virtually real pride has emearged
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem